


Birthday Presents

by aslytherspuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, Drinking Games, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21760663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aslytherspuff/pseuds/aslytherspuff
Summary: From the prompt: "How many times have I told you to leave your dragons in Romania?"Charlie turns up with an unusual birthday present for Harry... and then Tonks arranges an even better one.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Charlie Weasley
Comments: 11
Kudos: 398





	1. The Burrow

The peace at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was broken by the sudden cacophony of ten pairs of feet hurrying down the main staircase and into the kitchen.

“Come on! It's nearly twelve o'clock! Molly will kill us if we're late again!”

Hermione's somewhat hysterical outburst was met with eight grumbles of agreement, one yell of 'Gamma Molly', and the sound of the Floo flaring to life.

Harry was the last to leave; the somewhat oppressive silence of Grimmauld Place was left behind as he stumbled into the boisterous mayhem of The Burrow. He felt himself instantly pulled into a bone-crushing hug by Mrs Weasley, who ruffled his hair and kissed his cheeks as if she hadn't seen him for months. “Happy birthday, Harry!”

“Thanks, Molly,” he mumbled. He'd never been much good at birthdays. Until eleven, he'd never really had one, and he'd never much liked being the centre of attention, anyway.

“Twenty-two,” Mr Weasley crowed from the doorway. “Happy birthday, son!”

Harry offered him an awkward handshake but was pulled into a hug regardless.

It was weird, being twenty-two. His parents had never been twenty-two, but they'd been married and had him. He felt, simultaneously, that he was being left behind and, somehow, leaving his parents behind.

“Not brought anyone with you, Harry?” George yelled from the kitchen, where he was no doubt trying to spike the food with some prank or other.

Harry blushed uncomfortably. “Um, no.” This was why he felt as though he was being left behind. Everyone had someone; everyone was waiting for him to have someone, too.

Grimmauld Place, despite being his home, felt stifling at times. He couldn't go anywhere without bumping into one couple or another.

After the war, with nowhere else to go, most of his friends had moved in. The first two to move in, already a couple, were Ron and Hermione. Neville moved in shortly after, closely followed by Luna; initially separate, they soon paired off, leaving Harry the fifth wheel. Remus and Tonks had moved in with baby Teddy in the autumn. The last pair was Ginny, who had moved in after finishing Hogwarts, and her somewhat unexpected paramour, Astoria Greengrass.

The Burrow wasn't much better. Molly and Arthur, after over thirty years of marriage, were still disgustingly in love. Bill and Fleur, who had just welcomed their second daughter, were equally enamoured. Percy and Audrey were more reserved, but still clearly in love. George, though... George was the worst. He and Angelina had married just last month, and they seemed to have absolutely no boundaries when it came to public displays of affection. Worse, they had both taken 'getting Harry a partner' on as a personal mission.

“Is everyone here?” Harry asked, to no one in particular.

“Nearly,” came Bill's disembodied voice from the hallway, accompanied by the wails of a tantruming toddler. “Just Charlie left.”

_Charlie was coming?_

Harry's heart stuttered slightly in his chest. He smoothed down his old, faded t-shirt with suddenly-damp palms. Why had nobody told him Charlie was coming?

“Charlie?” he asked, hoping it sounded casual.

Bill's face appeared in the doorway. “Yeah... Why are you standing in here?”

Harry glanced around at the now-empty sitting room. “Oh. Um...” He hadn't realised everyone leaving.

Behind him, the Floo flared, and Harry and Bill were shoved aside by a near-hysterical Mrs Weasley rushing to embrace her second-oldest son. Harry turned to leave, face already burning at the sight of muscled arms, scars, and tattoos, but Bill was blocking the doorway.

“Sorry, I... Can I just...”

“CHARLES SEPTIMUS WEASLEY!”

They both flinched and covered their ears instinctively.

“How many times have I told you to  _leave your dragons in Romania_ ?”

Harry's eyes met Bill's in a mixture of horror and amusement. He'd brought a  _dragon_ ?

Slowly, Harry turned around. Mrs Weasley was standing nose-to-chest with the six-foot dragon handler, hands on her hips, and eyes sparking with rage. Harry couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped him, but the noise caught Charlie's attention. Blue eyes met green, and Harry fell silent.

Charlie turned back to his irate mother, holding up his tanned hands placatingly.

“Mum, I promise, it's not a dragon.”

Molly gestured angrily to the sling strapped to his muscular chest; the one that normally held baby dragons. “Then what is  _that_ , young man?”

Charlie's face split open in an easy grin. “Harry's birthday present.” His eyes met Harry's once more, and Harry could feel a hot flush spreading over his cheeks.

“You didn't have to get me anything,” he mumbled, awkwardly. He'd never gotten Charlie anything for his birthday, and only trinkets for Christmas. Why had Charlie come all the way from Romania with a gift for him?

Charlie grinned unrepentantly. “I didn't find it so much as it found me.”

Molly was still glaring suspiciously at her son, but stepped aside to let him past. “Go outside and say hello to everyone, then,” she commanded, rolling her eyes.

Harry brushed past Bill as he entered the room to greet his brother. He could feel their eyes on his retreating back, but he needed a few minutes to pull himself together.

He'd first met Charlie in his first year, when the dragon handler had come to 'rescue' Norbert. He'd felt a certain level of hero-worship for him, then. He'd seen him in passing during the Triwizard Tournament, but had been too busy trying to stay alive to take much notice. He'd not seen him again for nearly three years. They'd bumped into each other a few times during the war, but Harry had been dating Ginny, and lusting after her older brother – however ridiculously attractive – would have been entirely inappropriate. After the war, Charlie had come back to England for eight months. He'd stayed at The Burrow and Harry – who had recently split from Ginny – had stayed away. But then Remus and Tonks had moved into Grimmauld. Tonks, who had been Charlie's best friend at Hogwarts. Tonks, who had invited Charlie to Grimmauld at least once a week. Tonks, who had drunkenly recounted various adolescent sexual encounters with Charlie during a game of Truth and Dare. Tonks, who had dared Charlie to kiss Harry. Tonks, who had told Harry that Charlie was gay.

Charlie had moved back to Romania after Christmas that year.

Harry splashed cold water on his face and leaned his forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink.

Someone knocked on the door. He'd been hiding in here too long.

“Who is it?”

The door creaked open to reveal a head of pink hair. Tonks slipped inside and shut the door behind her.

“Are you okay?”

Motherly concern tinged her voice. She wasn't loud or overbearing like Molly Weasley, but she'd taken Harry under her wing as a son-slash-little brother. She was the only one that Harry had told about his long-standing infatuation with the second-eldest Weasley and, in turn, she'd spilled far more of Charlie's secrets than she probably should have. It didn't matter. Everything he'd learned had only increased his fascination with the dragon handler.

Harry sighed. “I'm fine, really.” He didn't sound convincing, even to himself.

Tonks pulled him in for a hug, one hand carding gently through his unruly hair. “What are you worried about?”

“I'm going to make a prat of myself.”

It was inevitable. He'd always been a mess around anyone he fancied. The Cho Disaster was just the tip of the iceberg.

“You won't.”

Harry snorted. He  _would_ . Tonks was just too optimistic for her own good.

“You won't,” she repeated, firmly. “Now get outside and let everyone sing terribly and give you presents so that Remus can finally eat some cake.”

Harry reluctantly stumbled out into the garden, pushed by Tonks, and everyone erupted into their own versions of “Happy Birthday”.

Teddy, apparently unable to control his excitement, was tearing towards Harry, present in hand, before the song was over. Harry swept the blue-haired toddler up into his arms, smiling as his eyes turned green and his hair became dark and messy.

“What have you got there, Teddy Bear?” he asked, as soon as everybody stopped singing.

Teddy smiled brightly and waved the red-wrapped present in Harry's face. “Is a 'ook,” he exclaimed. “Ook! Ook!”

Harry opened his mouth in exaggerated surprise. “A book? For me?”

Teddy shoved the present into Harry's chest with as much force as his tiny body could manage. “Ook,” he agreed, seriously. “Open 'ook.”

Harry pressed a soft kiss to his godson's forehead. “Thank you, Teddy Bear. Let's open it together.”

After Teddy 'helped' him to open his first present – a thick text on Hippogriffs, of all things – everyone crowded around to give Harry their own presents. More books from Bill and Fleur, Percy and Audrey, and Hermione. Neville and Luna had wrapped up photographs of the new plants they'd bought for Grimmauld Place's garden. George and Angelina had bought him a veritable treasure trove of his favourite products from the shop, as well as, somewhat optimistically, products from their new 'romance' range. There were Quidditch tickets from Ginny and Astoria. Flying gear from Ron. Dress robes from Molly and Arthur.

Harry thanked everyone with a smile and a one-armed hug, using the ever-adorable toddler on his left hip to distract the bulk of the attention away from himself.

Too soon, Remus whisked his son away, leaving Harry unprotected to face the only person who's present he had yet to receive. Charlie stood in front of him, sling still snug around his muscled torso.

“So, uh, happy birthday, Harry.”

He almost sounded nervous.

Harry looked up to see freckled cheeks and earnest blue eyes.

Charlie reached into the sling and scooped out a small furred and feathered creature.

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock.

“Is that...?”

“A hippogriff,” Charlie finished. “A baby from Buckbeak's herd. He was the second of twins, born too weak to stand, so his mum rejected him. Hagrid's been hand-rearing him.”

The tiny, black creature in Charlie's arms shifted, and soft, brown eyes opened to meet Harry's.

“He's beautiful.” Hesitantly, he reached out one hand to smooth across the feathers on the foal's head.

“He'll never be accepted back into the herd, and he won't grow nearly as big as a normal hippogriff. I know you have space at Grimmauld since Buckbeak used to live there, and I thought—”

Harry was momentarily stunned. Charlie was nervous. “He's perfect,” he said, cutting across Charlie's increasingly frantic explanations. “Does he have a name?”

Charlie shook his head.

“Orion,” Harry said, firmly. “His name is Orion.”

Behind Charlie, Harry noticed Tonks smirking, and the ease of their conversation immediately evaporated. Harry took a step back, suddenly aware of his proximity to the muscle-bound dragon tamer.

“Th-thank you, Charlie,” he said, unsure of what else to say. The hippogriff in Charlie's arms provided a convenient excuse not to hug him like he had everyone else, and Harry felt simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

“So, Charlie,” Tonks chirped, making the freckled man jump and causing Harry to giggle. “How long are you in England?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the interfering witch, but she ignored him.

“Uh,” Charlie shifted his weight from foot to foot, then looked around at the assembled group of friends and family. “I have an announcement to make.”

Everyone fell silent, aside from Teddy and Victoire, who were merrily chasing a garden gnome as fast as their little legs could carry them.

Charlie seemed to flush slightly under the attention, and Harry had to look away so as not to publicly embarrass himself.

“I'm back in England permanently.”

Molly's sob was the first noise to break through the silence as she rushed to embrace her son, completely disregarding the baby hippogriff in his arms. Arthur joined them, wrapping his wife and son in a firm hug. Harry was close enough to hear Arthur murmuring his thanks in Charlie's ear.

“You should come stay at Grimmauld.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Charlie turned to look at him in surprise, and Harry turned his gaze to study a scuff on the toe of his shoe. “Y'know, if you haven't got a place set up. Since I've got room. And you were there with us loads anyway, last time. Plus, I could use some help with Orion, and I bet you know loads about hippogriffs, so... But only if you want to. It's just an offer. You'll probably want to stay here, with your parents.”

Tonks clamped a hand over his mouth.

“What he means is,” she said, pointedly glaring at Harry, “you  _must_ come stay at Grimmauld with us. At least until you get settled in and find a place of your own.”

Charlie, still being firmly embraced by his over-emotional mother, nodded. “Thanks, Tonks... and Harry. Is next week too soon?”

Tonks smiled, an almost feral glint in her eyes. “Why not tonight? We're throwing after party for the young'uns, anyway. No sense flooing home drunk.”

Harry's heart began to hammer in his chest. Tonks knew full well there were no spare rooms at the moment. The only spare bed was in Harry's room. Given a few days, a room could be cleared and the spare bed moved into it. But tonight?

“If you're sure, that would be great,” Charlie said, and Harry's heart thumped painfully.  _Fuck_ .


	2. Grimmauld Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which "Tonks is a bro".

Harry was fucked.

The world seemed a little bit fuzzy around the edges, and his eyes were glued to Charlie's adam's apple as he swallowed his Firewhisky.

“Never have I ever wanked over someone in this room,” Bill had declared, proudly. Easy for him to say; his Veela wife was at Shell Cottage with their children. Charlie had smirked, tipped his drink in Harry's direction, and downed the lot.

Harry was vaguely aware of his friends sipping their drinks. Vaguely aware of the burn of his own Firewhisky as it poured down his throat. Vaguely aware of... everyone looking at him?

“Harry,” Hermione slurred, “I think 's your turn.”

Oh. That's why they were looking at him.

“Uh...” What could he say? “Never have I ever...” Charlie's blue eyes met his and his mind went blank.  _Fuck_ . Harry closed his eyes tightly. “Never have I ever gotten caught making out in a broom closet.”

Everyone reached for their drinks. Even Remus.

“Remus! Who?” Harry blurted.

Remus blushed. Tonks snickered.

“Tonks?” he asked.  _But they hadn't even been at school at the same time?_

Remus' cheeks burned bright red. “Ah, no,” he muttered. “Sirius.”

Well, fuck. He hadn't expected that.

Suddenly, George wolf-whistled and thumped Remus on the back. “Whoo! Get in there, Moony!”

Tonks started laughing so hard that Harry could swear he heard her snort.

If Harry hadn't been so distracted by Remus and Tonks, he would have seen the wicked glint in Astoria's eyes.

“Never have I ever,” she announced, no hint of a slur marring her clear, Pureblood accent, “had sex with a man.”

Silence descended.

All of the girls – except Astoria – shrugged and took a sip.

Ron, Bill, Neville, and George made no move towards their glasses.

Charlie rolled his eyes, reached for his glass, and drained it.

_Fuck_ .

Harry's hand was shaking as he reached for his. He tried to take a sip before anyone noticed, but not even Remus knocking his drink back –  _he slept with Sirius!_ – diverted the attention of Hermione and Charlie.

“Who?”

It was Ron who eventually spoke.

“Which time?” Harry asked. His voice sounded pleasingly disinterested, as if he hadn't just come out to almost all of his friends over a drunken party game. His hands were still shaking. He couldn't look at Charlie.

Ron choked. It sounded like he might need CPR.

“All of the times.”

Charlie's voice was deep. Rough. Slurred slightly. Sexy.

“This isn't truth or dare, y'know.” Harry smirked, proud of himself.  _Good answer, Harry._

“It is now. Truth or dare, Potter?”

Harry was going to murder George Weasley in his sleep.

“Dare.”  _Ha! Now he couldn't ask!_

“Dare you to tell us everyone you've slept with.”

_Wait. Was that even allowed?_

“I'll tell if you don't.”

Harry was going to murder Ginny, too.

He took a large swig of his Firewhisky. Liquid courage. “Blaise. Dean. Some muggle guy named Nick.” Three people, plus Ginny. Not a lot. Not really.

“Well done, Harry,” Luna said, brightly. “I've always heard Blaise was good fun.”

This time, Neville choked.

It settled down for a bit after that. Harry dared Ron to show everyone his tattoo. Ron – who was three sheets to the wind – passed out after pulling his pants down, and Hermione had to take him to bed. Ginny admitted to getting caught with Astoria in the Quidditch changing rooms, and Neville admitted to hooking up with Luna in one of the greenhouses during sixth year. George was dared to use a WWW product on himself, and spent five full minutes conversing only in song. George then, in a moment of drunken curiosity, asked Tonks if it was true that werewolves were better in bed, and Harry learned far, far more than he ever needed to about Remus' bedroom proclivities.

Harry's drink had been left untouched while he'd sat back and listened to his friends' stories of sexual mischief, and the blurriness around the edges of his vision had receded. He felt warm, relaxed, but relatively sober, all things considered. Which is why, when he realised it was Tonks' turn, he had the sense to be very, very concerned.

Tonks tapped her lower lip with her index finger, eyes flitting between Harry and Charlie, before her face lit up in a smirk that was positively  _feral_ .

“Hey, Char!”

Charlie looked up. “Huh?”

“Truth or dare?”

Charlie seemed to pale slightly under the somewhat terrifying smile of his best friend, but then he met her challenging gaze with one of his own and squared his shoulders. Harry swallowed convulsively as he saw Charlie's muscles ripple with the movement.

“Dare.”

“Oh, good. I dare you to kiss Harry.”

Charlie's cheeks seemed to flush at the same time as Harry felt his start to burn. It had been three and a half years ago, under identical circumstances, that they had had their first kiss. This time, Harry was ready.

Charlie reached over and pulled Harry towards him. Used the hand under Harry's chin to tilt his head, and the hand on his hip to pull him closer. Soft, warm lips met his.

He wasn't ready.

Charlie's tongue swept along his bottom lip and licked teasingly into his mouth. His hand dropped to cradle the back of Harry's neck. His teeth nipped gently, playfully, until Harry reciprocated.

Charlie tasted like Firewhisky and bonfires and sin.

His hard, muscled body burned Harry like wildfire everywhere they touched.

Charlie's hand moved from his hip to his thigh. Pulled Harry onto his lap. Rolled their hips together.

Harry moaned.

Remus coughed, and Harry abruptly fell backwards, face flaming.

Tonks beamed and held out her hand.

Bill and George groaned and handed over a handful of galleons.

“I think we should go now, Neville. That really was quite stimulating,” Luna said, without a hint of embarrassment. Neville had the decency to look a bit embarrassed, but followed Luna out of the room without shame.

Ginny snickered. “Come, my darling Astoria. Let us go upstairs and make sweet love.” Astoria gave her a smack for that, but she was still smiling indulgently at her incredibly drunk girlfriend.

“We won't be doing anything of the sort with you in this state,” she retorted, primly. But they said their goodnights and left regardless.

Bill, George and Angelina, and Remus and Tonks similarly made their excuses and headed to the Floo or their bedroom, respectively.

Within minutes, Harry was left alone, sitting in front of Charlie, wishing he was still drunk.

“Are you still drunk?”

Harry shook his head.

“Oh.” Charlie said, sounding a bit surprised. Harry stared hard at the threadbare rug on the floor beneath him.  _Should've just said yes. Then you could've written the whole thing off as a drunken mistake, again._

“Good,” Charlie continued. “That means I don't have to feel guilty about doing this.”

Before Harry had time to register the words, Charlie's right hand was back under his chin, his left on his hip, and his lips were brushing against Harry's. Soft. Gentle. Questioning.  _Can I?_

Harry left his tongue slide over Charlie's lower lip.

_Yes._


End file.
